


Truth Is....

by Crossover_Critter



Series: HoodFlash [2]
Category: Flashpoint (Comics), Forever Evil (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Barry Allen is The Flash, Barry Allen is a widower, Barry is more than a little smitten, DC Comics Rebirth, Eddie Izzard References, Jason Todd is Red Hood, M/M, Pre-Slash, Spoilers for Flashpoint, Spoilers for RHATO Rebirth 1, The coworkers mean well, cannon divergence: mid-RHATO annual 2, spoilers for Forever Evil, spoilers for RHATO 25
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25369558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crossover_Critter/pseuds/Crossover_Critter
Summary: Jason officially asks Barry out.  Barry might spend a little too much time overthinking it.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Iris Allen (past), Barry Allen/Jason Todd
Series: HoodFlash [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828789
Comments: 18
Kudos: 114





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This immediately follows, "It Starts With a Question," the first work in my HoodFlash series. It will likely not make sense without reading that story first. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read, kudos-ed, and commented on part one. I hope you enjoy (the build up to) date night :).

Jason messages him two days later. A set of coordinates, a day, a time, and a smiley emoji – the one with the rosy cheeks – appear on his phone just after lunch. It's kind of sappy and totally incongruous with the bloody crime scene that stretches from one end of the living room, through the kitchen, and into the foyer, but Barry's a sap and it makes him smile. 

Forrest shoots him an odd look out of the corner of his eye -- well,  _another_ odd look, because Barry knows he's been acting "strangely" since Jitters (quoting his coworkers) -- and pointedly tries to read the screen. Yanking the phone out of the way, Barry twists to his right and ends up facing Patty, who grins wickedly and grabs the device out of his hand.  


Thankfully the phone is still locked so all she can read is the most recent message, but the emoji kind of gives it all away. With a raised eyebrow and smirk, she faces him, rolling her eyes when he snatches the phone back. Because yeah, it's a little late.

"So, Bartholomew," she starts, drawing out the syllables in his name, "hot date with a treasure hunter?"

"Or maybe a hot tip on a new crime scene," Forrest offers, catching the message when the screen lights up with its two-minute, you-haven't-read-me-yet-you-fool message alert. Barry groans.

"I'll take the living room," he says by way of an answer, dropping his phone in his coat pocket and grabbing some latex gloves from his kit. "If the drag marks are any indication, it looks like that's where everything started."

"Smooth." Barry can  _hear_ Patty's eye roll. "Good to see you back in the game, although if someone I'd just met sent me mysterious coordinates and a time, I'd probably call, well, us," she said, gesturing with her kit. "I mean, assuming I was going to go and not just call the cops."

She might have a point, but he  _is_ The Flash. Jason isn't exactly Grodd. He might have big arms and nice thighs, and.... Oh, god, he's  _not_ doing this here. With a violent shake of his head, he stalks off to his section of the crime scene, resolutely ignoring the snickering behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Once they get started, the work consumes them. They talk little except to exchange notes and share supplies. It's worse than it looked on the surface; the bodies may be gone, but so much remains to tell the story. By the time the last evidence bag is tagged and sealed, the sun is sinking low and they're all tired, aching, and more than a little sick. It really never gets easier, not for any of them.

Back at the lab, they store all the samples, send the camera cards for printing, and bid each other "good night." Patty tells him to remember his Kevlar vest for his date as she leaves. Barry wants to bang his head against the wall, because he still hasn't replied to Jason's message. He's off to a great start with this relationship.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he unlocks it and opens said message. Without thinking, he sends, "I'll see you then," adding his own smiley face. The reply is immediate, as if Jason's been waiting by his phone. A hugely-grinning emoji appears on the screen with a  _pop_ . Barry smiles and heads home.

*

It's over dinner that he realizes he  _still_ doesn't know where this date is actually supposed to happen. His shift ends at four o'clock, so he should have no problem being...wherever at seven thirty, hopefully even showered and with clean clothes, but that doesn't mean he wants to or – despite earlier appearances – feels comfortable meeting an almost-stranger out the sticks in a cornfield somewhere. A quick check on Maps tells him Jason wants to meet by a lake a few miles outside the city. Not ridiculously far, only about a twenty minute drive from Barry's house, but it's still an odd choice.

As he cleans up and gets ready for bed, he hears Patty's voice chiding him with a reminder that Kevlar doesn't float.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't seen Eddie Izzard's bit on "Cake or Death," empires, and other historical goodness you might want to watch it first. The exact referenced part starts around minute 3:40, but it makes more sense if you watch the whole thing (and it's totally worth it). "Cake or Death" was referenced in part one of HoodFlash.  
> https://youtu.be/PVH0gZO5lq0?list=PLaAhEee-tsQhvJfjteqp6URLTLG6LjKL8

Barry's thought about this date _a lot_. "Obsessively" was the word bandied about the lab. For a man who can literally think and act between the seconds, in the last forty-eight hours he's accomplished _nothing_. One minute he's prepping specimen slides, the next he's dripping glycerin all over his work space. He'd nearly smoked out the lab when mixing chemicals, zoning out as he wondered if he'd look better in navy blue or light blue, and whether he should gel his hair back neatly or try for artfully mussed. Forrest had called him a "menace" as he'd grabbed the beakers and deposited them safely under the fume hood. Barry had winced but couldn't disagree. He _might_ be going a little crazy.

He'd call Hal, but Oa isn't exactly in his coverage area, and as much as he knows they mean well, he's not ready to take advice on his love life from his coworkers. Who keep asking about _her._ He wonders what Iris would say; he never had a reason to tell her, not that he was ashamed of this part of himself. She'd just had plenty of other...baggage from him to deal with without tossing this on the heap.

And that's really the crux of the issue: baggage. Jason's made it clear he has plenty of his own, and in between worrying about what he's going to wear and how he's going to _not_ make an ass of himself on his first date in over a decade, Barry's mind has been happily conjuring up scenario after scenario regarding Jason's past – each grimmer and more ridiculous than the last. Part of him is even worried about what happens if the date goes _well_ and he finds he actually likes Jason _._ He can't imagine a guy who drinks specialty teas and quotes from obscure literature is a rapist or a murder or a drug lord, but as Eddie Izzard pointed out, Hitler was a vegetarian painter. And all the evidence says a loving father of four brutally murdered his wife and kids.

Because great, those thoughts are super helpful.

Taking a last look in the mirror, he tries to imagine Iris, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, smiling at him over his shoulder – a reassurance that she's good, _this_ is good, and everything is alright.

*

It's as he's turning off the main road and parking in a small gravel lot, bereft of actual parking spaces and lights, that Barry thinks that maybe he should have listened to Patty. The feeling gets stronger as he realizes that he still has to traverse a dirt path that leads off into a grove of trees, leadened by shadows from the setting sun, before he arrives at the lake. Taking a breath, he definitely does not nervously finger his costume ring, tucked securely in his pocket, as he again checks the coordinates on his phone. He knows he could just text Jason and ask if he's in the right place, but intrigue wins out over common sense, and he carefully makes his way into the darkened woods.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last Eddie Izzard reference for a while: Engelbert Humperdinck. The part Barry is mimicking at the beginning starts around 2:24.
> 
> https://facebook.com/Sinemaestro/videos/10152720172564198/

Barry's so intent on not tripping over roots and tree limbs in the dark that it takes him a minute to realize he's off the path and into a grassy area. A light breeze ruffles his hair and the sound of lapping water carries on the gentle wind. As he takes in the scene before him, he can't help staring open-mouthed at the sight. The grassy shore slopes gradually down to the water's edge, only a thin breaker of rock dividing the two. A wooden pier, supported by thick, wooden piles, leads out a few feet into the lake; some of the piles are wrapped with twists of white fairy lights, the soft illumination drawing his eye to the picnic cloth spread out on the dock, flickering candles at its center. With the light of the moon dancing over the water, it's just...wow.

At the sound of a throat clearing, Barry glances to his left and sees Jason rising gracefully from a cross-legged position on the grass. Closing his book and placing it on the seat of his motorcycle, he makes his way over, footsteps almost silent despite his heavy boots. In the shadows of the night, dark hair, dark pants, and a dark button-down give him the appearance of a powerful, elegant panther.

"You made it." Jason's voice is equal parts excitement and relief as he stops a few feet away, fidgeting slightly, obviously unsure as to whether a proper greeting involves touching.

Given his own lack of recent dating experience, and general dearth of social skills, the small display of nervousness calms the butterflies in Barry's own stomach. "It was definitely one of the more...interesting invitations I've been sent," he replies with a wry grin.

"'Interesting' good, I hope. I swear I was going for 'interesting good' and not, well, 'middle of nowhere slasher flick.'" Jason's expression is something between sheepish and hopeful.

"I might be wearing Kevlar," the scientist says with a straight face. The startled, wide-eyed look Jason shoots him is comical, and he gives a tight shake of his head to show he's joking. When the younger man starts to relax, he promptly starts nodding again, then switches to shaking his head.

"Engelbert Humperdinck is so dead," Jason deadpans.

Barry laughs as he again takes it all in. He and Iris might have done something like this for an anniversary, but it's definitely not what he was expecting for a first date.

As if reading his mind, Jason asks, "It's not too much, is it?" His voice is closer, and Barry notices their shoulders are now almost touching.

The scientist shakes his head. "It's not. It's...nice." His eyes catch the other man's and he adds, "Thank you," a smile crossing his lips.

Tentatively placing a hand on Barry's shoulder, Jason inclines his head towards the pier, and they walk in silence down to the water. The younger man's hand drifts closer to the center of Barry's back, comfortably warm in the night air.

"How did you find this place?" Barry asks quietly as they step off the shore onto the pier, the night and the ambiance attracting whispers.

"By accident, actually. I was heading back to Gotham a few weeks ago and saw a bunch of bikes and cars parked in that lot up there." With a hand, the raven-haired man gestures back towards the path. "I figured this was a public campground or something, so I stopped to look around. Turns out it's actually private land and I'd wandered into a family reunion." He shrugs an _oops_. "I was all set to apologize and wander back out, but the guy who owns the place saw my gear, offered me a beer, and we talked bikes with some of his relatives 'til the sun went down. Then they lit up a fire to toast marshmallows and make s'mores for the kids. Apparently I'm 'family' now." Jason says the word almost wistfully, a flicker of sadness ghosting across his face.

Drawing close enough that their shoulders bump, Barry gazes out over the water. He feels Jason's hand slowly brush against his right arm and hold him closer. With a happy _hum_ he says, "That sounds nice." The younger man shakes against his side, and the scientist looks over to see him with his head bowed trying to hold back laughter. Well great, strike one against Barry. "What?" He can't help sounding a little defensive.

Jason chews at his lower lip for a few seconds before turning towards Barry and placing his hands lightly on the other man's hips. With a grin he says, "If you ever visit the shop, I have a book for you. It's called a 'thesaurus.' It's _nice_. Sometimes _good_ , although probably not _great_. And in the right context," he pauses, pointedly raking a heated glance along the length of Barry's body and pitching his voice low, "some might even call it _beautiful_."

Barry's breath catches in his chest and he can't seem to look away from Jason's eyes. Hal has fondly called him "adorkable" before, usually as he straightens Barry's bow tie, but that seems a far cry from _that_ – from... _beautiful_. Maybe he should be slightly offended, but instead he can feel his face heat and he knows he's blushing. As he stands there, finally managing to tear his eyes away from Jason's, he stares at wood planks and realizes that he can't think of a single thing to say. A thesaurus is apparently the least of his concerns.

"Think there are any pilot fish in there?"

With a completely unsexy _snort_ from the scientist, the tension eases. They both laugh, and when it passes, Barry feels a gentle tug on his hand as Jason leads him over to the picnic cloth and pulls him down so they're seated across from each other.

"You _are_ allowed to tell me I'm trying too hard," Jason says as he leans over and grabs a cooler from next to one of the piles. "I'm just trying to be _nice_ , but...."

Rolling his eyes, not that Jason can see it as he unpacks the food, Barry replies without any real heat, "Is this going to be a 'thing?'"

Passing out cutlery and dishes, Jason shrugs, his expression innocent. "Maybe. Possibly. I hope so." He grins before he closes the cooler and pushes it back to the side. Not giving Barry a chance to ponder that statement, he starts pointing to the food items arranged on the blanket. "Gazpacho. Crusty bread. Olives and peppers with mozzarella. Microgreens with a lemon vinaigrette dressing. And rosé, beer, or water."

Barry just blinks and stares, because again...wow. He looks up to see Jason looking at him expectantly and hears his mother's voice telling him to remember his words. "This looks delicious. Did you make everything?" Barry silently cheers as he manages to complete his...fourth?...full sentence of the night.

"Except the olives, peppers, and mozzarella. There's a little Mediterranean store by the bookshop that makes all these sides and salads fresh everyday. I thought you could help me try this one." Jason spoons some of the dish in question onto his own plate, along with a piece of bread, watching as Barry pours some of the gazpacho into a bowl. "Choice of beverage?"

"A glass of wine, if you'll join me." Barry waits for Jason's nod before twisting the cap on the bottle to break the seal. The younger man holds out two cups and the scientist pours what looks like a responsible amount into each. Recapping the bottle, Barry takes one of the cups, tapping it against the one in Jason's hand before he leans back. "To beautiful things," he says softly, taking a sip. He hides a smile in his cup as Jason's jaw drops, his face turning a dusky shade of pink.

They eat in companionable silence for a bit, Barry making approving noises as he samples each dish. "Where did you learn how to cook?" he finally asks, mopping up the last drops of gazpacho with a piece of bread.

Washing down his salad with wine, Jason replies, "There was this guy growing up, he was kind of like a grandfather to me. I'd watch him sometimes, in the kitchen, and he'd put me to work doing the things he _thought_ I couldn't mess up." He smiles, eyes going unfocused as a memory comes to him. "He was making pastries for a dinner one day, all alone, and I came in and just stood there and stared at him. Finally he goes, 'Mas...um... _Jason_ , why don't you _try_ and make yourself useful by cracking these eggs?' I got through three of them before he yanked the bowl back and started scolding me; 'I just don't understand how can someone who can fight...." ' _With such precision could all but destroy these shells.'_ He pauses, floundering for words, because he can't say _that_. "Uhhh...he basically said an uncoordinated elephant would get fewer shell bits. It was pretty awful," he finishes lamely. _Just like that trip-up._ With a _sigh_ , he forks more peppers onto a piece of bread, takes a small bite, and chews slowly, studying the silver-tipped ripples in the water.

"This is the man who made the tea?" Jason blinks and stills; it almost looks as if he's afraid, going back over his words, taking them apart and figuring out how the scientist put them together. "The accent...from before, at the coffee shop. You used it again," Barry clarifies.

_Damn._ Jason hadn't even noticed; he'd forgotten he'd brought up Alfred that day. He's comfortable – good food, better company, and enough wine to give him a pleasant buzz – and in trying to be normal for just a minute, he's already slipped twice. At this rate, Barry won't even _need_ to ask him anything. He can feel the other man's eyes on him, studying him, as he gives small nod.

"Iris didn't cook," Barry says after a beat, when it's clear Jason won't say anything else. "She was almost always in a hurry." _Just like me._ "Too much news to follow, too many stories to write, and too little time. If I didn't make it home by five, in time to make dinner, there was takeout waiting." He chews on his lip, once again imaging her arms around his waist, this time as he stirs pasta sauce on the stove.

_'What's cooking, red?'_

She could be as energetic as The Flash, but when she slowed down, when she was just holding him.... "She loved lasagna – made me learn how to make her grandmother's recipe." His smile is but a sad twist of his lips. He thinks there's got to be some rule against talking about your dead wife on a first date, but he can't help how much she's just always... _there._

With a _sigh,_ Jason reaches over and brushes his fingers against Barry's. Quietly he says, "It's okay. You loved her. She was a huge part of your life. You don't have to pretend otherwise."

For a long moment, Barry just stares at the other man. Finally he says, "You're a mind reader, aren't you?"

His words earn a short laugh from Jason, who shakes his head. "No, I'm just good at reading people."

"Have you ever...I mean, did you ever...." Barry's not exactly sure what he's trying to ask, but the younger man seems to understand anyway.

Shaking his head, Jason replies, "No, I've never had anyone in my life like Iris was to you. A couple of close friends," he says, thinking of Roy and Kori and Artemis and Bizarro, "a few people who cared," like Alfred, "but no, not like that."

"I'm sorry." It's probably not the right thing to say, but Barry means it. He knows he wouldn't have hurt as he did if he'd never met Iris, but he also knows that without her, he wouldn't be the man -- or the hero -- that he is.

"How did you end up in forensics?" It's apropos of nothing, but they need a topic change. From Barry's grimace, Jason can tell it's the wrong one.

Taking a long breath, the scientists lets it out slowly before he speaks. "My mom was killed – murdered – when I was a kid. My dad went to prison for it, but he didn't do it. I wanted to prove him innocent and help make sure no one else went through the same thing. It's okay," he quickly adds, knowing that Jason is opening his mouth to apologize for asking. "It happened. If it hadn't...." Well, Barry's been down that road before, and as painful and heartbreaking as it had been to lose his mother and their life together again, too many people had payed the price for his selfishness. He doesn't know how to finish that thought, so he just shrugs.

"Were you able to help your father?"

It's with a small, sad shake of his head that Barry replies, "No. He died a few years ago; I wasn't able to free him."

Jason doesn't know what else to say, so he settles for "I'm sorry." In the pause that follows, he adds, "My mom died, too. Not like that...I mean, she was an addict. She overdosed. My dad was in prison; he was her dealer, got her hooked, and then married her." _And ended up with a wife and kid he turned into punching bags and play things._ "I called the cops on him once because he...." _B_ _eat us._ Jason makes a fist, because it's hard to admit his weakness, even if he was just a kid. "He got out. Then he went back in. He died inside."

"I'm sorry."

If anyone else had said those words to him, Jason probably would have scoffed and punched them for sounding trite. But one look at Barry's face and it's unquestionable how much he means them, so instead he just mumbles a quiet "thanks."

Replaying their conversation from the coffee shop in his mind, Barry says, "You grew up in Gotham."

"Yeah. The shittiest part of the shittiest neighborhood in the city."

"Did you have any family? I mean after your mom and dad...."

With a rueful snort, Jason replies, "No. I ended up on the streets, an area called The Narrows, doing whatever I needed to do to survive."

"Your 'past?'" Barry questions softly. He doesn't make the air quotes, but they're audible.

Jason thinks that the night has been fun, but here's where it starts to end. "Yeah, some of it anyway."

"Tell me."

"I thought you were going to ask." The younger man looks away, unable to stand the weight of Barry's gaze.

"It's your life – I don't want to pry where you don't want me to. I'd rather you just tell me; if I need to ask something, I will."

With a sharp laugh, Jason quietly admits, "I don't want you to know any of it."

"I get having secrets," Barry says, his costume ring heavy in his pocket, "but they usually don't make things better." Keeping Iris out of his life as The Flash had nearly ended their relationship. When Jason nods but doesn't say anything, Barry  _ sighs  _ softly _.  _ Sorting through the questions running through his mind, he finally asks, "Why now? Why after all this time are you trying to change things now _. _ "

Jason chews at his bottom lip long enough that it appears he isn't going to answer. When he finally does, Barry has to strain to hear him. "I almost died."  _ I mean, I actually died, too. But then I almost died.  _ "It put things in...perspective."

Regretting the words even as he says them, he asks, "What happened?"  Jason's shoulders slump, and it might be a trick of the light, but Barry thinks he sees tears bead in corners of the the younger man's eyes. The scientist hates the part of himself that has to know. 

"There was a man, he was kind of a mentor," Jason begins, his voice rough and unsteady. "He helped me learn how to take care of myself when I was a kid. Thing is, I wasn't very good at following his rules." _I was too violent._ "If people hurt me, I hurt them back. If I saw other people being hurt, I...stopped it." _Permanently._ "The last time I saw him, he thought I did something. I didn't."

_'I was a fool for ever believing in you.'_

"But he wasn't one for asking questions first."

_'Why didn't you just_ tell _me?'_

_'Why didn't you just_ trust _me?'_

"It was the man who got my father killed. I found out who he was, and I wanted to scare him." _It was obviously a blank; Cobblepot wouldn't be alive otherwise._ "When he found out, he beat the crap out of me – hit me harder than...," Jason pauses, swallowing audibly. _The Joker._ "...anyone else. Hard enough to...," _Break my helmet._ "...break my face. And about twenty other bones in my body. Femur fracture, broken arm, broken wrist and fingers, four broken ribs, a dislocated hip, fractured zygomatic bone, hairline fracture of the temporal bone...." He rattles them off as if they're just meaningless words, but inside each feels like another punch to the gut from a gauntleted fist. "I was in the hospital for a month. I'm told I coded more than once that first night. I couldn't get out of bed on my own for almost two months after that."

_'You're lucky Batman didn't knock your head clean off.'_

"I'm lucky he didn't take my head off. The only reason I'm still alive is because my best friend risked his own ass to save me." _Taking on The Bat with nothing but a couple of trick arrows and a level of chutzpah only Roy could manage._ Unconsciously, Jason rubs at his chest where Bruce had ripped off his emblem. "When I could finally get out, I did. Gave Gotham the finger and vowed to get the hell away." _Not that Bruce didn't throw me out first._

By the time he finishes the story, Jason is visibly shaking. From anger, from fear, from pain, he doesn't know and he figures it doesn't really matter. What he does know is that Bruce Wayne, Batman, and all his little birds and bats can go fuck themselves, hard, preferably on his gun. He doesn't need them and he certainly doesn't want them in his life. "I tried...I really did," he whispers. _To be better. To play by the rules._ He couldn't help it if sometimes his world just turned _green_. He didn't _ask_ for it.

At his side Jason hears a rustle of fabric and then a hand tentatively covers his. When he looks up, he finds that Barry is crying, tear tracks shining in the moonlight. It makes him feel guilty – he doesn't want to hurt someone else, hurt this man. He just knows that the scientist is going to apologize, and he doesn't want to hear it because _Barry's_ not the one who should be apologizing. Running his free hand roughly through his hair, he shrugs – unconvincingly nonchalant – and says, "It happened. This is me moving on. Starting new."

Wiping away his tears as he sucks on his lower lip, Barry nods as he gathers his thoughts. The trained investigator in him is pointing out the glaring contradiction in Jason's story; the rest of him is trying to figure out how much he cares. What's a second chance without a little faith?

_Except it's not really a second chance – not yet._

"You said you still had _..._ things to take care of," he finally says slowly. "It's not over yet, is it?" Expression pinched, Jason just shakes his head. "What's left? What are you still into?"

"I have...business interests I need to tie up. If I just disappear...," _The pushers will start dealing to kids again. The human traffickers will see it as invitation to re-enter the ports. The masked psychopaths will declare open season on The Narrows._ "...people could – will -- get hurt. There'd be a...vacuum." _And then there'd be a war._ "I need to make sure everyone's safe and that the...business is in the right hands. Then I can leave." And as a parting gift, he thinks he'll light his busted helmet on fire and leave it on the manor's doorstep. He still has it, the one from that night; it's been his motivation.

"What type of business?" Barry asks quietly, interrupting his reverie.

"Mostly money." It's not a lie. At this point, Jason has divested himself of just about everything but the casino. But that money is linked to "security" and "investments" -- it's what gives him influence over the drugs and the black market imports, allows him to make sure everyone stays in line. Out of the corner of his eye, as he absently shreds his napkin, Jason sees Barry considering his next question.

_'Are you violent, psychopathic killer who has murdered his way through the Gotham underworld?'_

_Who me? What makes you ask that?_

He just manages to swallow a hysterical giggle as the scientist says, "It sounds like you're pretty influential."

_'Like a mob boss or maybe a crime lord.'_

"I've done alright," Jason replies carefully. "Thing is, I know where I came from, and I've tried to help the people who didn't make it out – who aren't going to. My mom was a stripper when she was sober enough to work; she had 'friends' who helped her pay the rent. Most of them didn't much like kids, or if they did...." He resolutely swallows the rest of that sentence, cursing himself for even mentioning it. Steamrolling on, he says, "I could've been her or my dad if I hadn't gotten off the street. So as I...worked my way up, I tried to help people. Even if sometimes I...," _Murdered the bad guys to do it._ "...went a little too far."

Jason's gut is twisting, and he finds he regrets having this date over dinner because the look on Barry's face is making him feel ill. He sees disgust, anger, disbelief, and sadness in the thin line of the older man's lips, the tightness around his eyes, and the subtle flaring of his nostrils. He knows that Barry can read between the lines, and Jason knows he was stupid – not for starting over, but definitely for trying to start over with a cop. There's so much he's not saying, and he doesn't want to actually _lie --_ Barry doesn't deserve that – but he just wants a chance.

"Look, I...."

"You said...."

They both laugh awkwardly as they talk over each other, Barry beating Jason to the  _ after you _ motion. 

Sucking in a breath and letting it out slowly, Jason whispers, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put you in this position. You have a lot to lose, and it was selfish of me. Just...thank you – for being here, for listening. It's...."  _ More than I've gotten from my own 'family.'  _ "Just, thank you."

He's dragging over the cooler and clearing away the remains of their meal when Barry speaks again, his words measured.

"You said you needed three months." Even as the idea takes shape in his head, the cop in Barry is rebelling. It's the Leaguer who's doing the talking.

Jason stills, his eyes searching the other man's face. "Yeah," he says quietly, uncertainly.

The scientist worries his lower lip as he thinks. How many mistakes has  _ he _ made? He changed  _ history  _ to save his mother, bringing chaos and destruction in his wake. The League gave him another chance. Pied Piper had reformed after years as a criminal to come back as productive member of society.  _ Hell, Hartley is dating Singh _ . The Rogues and Luther, of all people, had had their moment of redemption saving the Earth. Bruce might have hated it, but even he had given Lex the benefit of the doubt – a chance to do better. And if Barry remembers correctly, Bruce's own son was an assassin who now fights alongside Batman as Robin.

More selfishly, Barry  _ likes _ Jason, can see that his heart is in the right place even if his words hint at questionable decisions. But sometimes life only let's you make the least-bad choices; if there's one thing he's learned from talking to criminals and victims alike it's that. Sometimes it comes down to motive. 

All those thoughts speed through Barry's mind between blinks of an eye until he finally finds himself nodding. His inner cop still isn't totally appeased, but what is being a hero about if not believing that things can change for the better – not just the world, but  _ people _ . 

"Three months, then," he repeats firmly, his eyes meeting Jason's. "If in three months it's all done, the past will stay the past. I won't ask, you don't have to tell. Fresh start." The younger man's mouth drops open in surprise, but Barry isn't done yet. "But if it enters our life – comes knocking at our doorstep...."  _ It's over _ . "I just can't," he finishes with a tight shake of his head. That has to be his line.

Jason's mouth opens and closes several times, but no words come out. He thinks he must be on another Earth, because  _ what?  _ "You can't...," he finally stammers, "you can't mean that. You have no idea...you don't know...." Not that Jason  _ wants _ Barry to know, that's the whole point. But this...he hasn't even told Barry  _ anything _ .

"I've solved my share of problems with my fists," the scientist admits.  _ I still do. Hell, that's practically all Superman does _ . "If you're serious...."

"I am," Jason says quickly.

"Then you have three months." Barry offers what he thinks is a reassuring smile. The one he gets from Jason in return is a true thing of beauty – open, earnest, and full of hope.


End file.
